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Month: August 2015

Though the previews may deceive you, this is not a Slender Man movie – if you’re not familiar with Slender then please look him up, it’s well worth the laugh. This is the sequel to 2012’s sleeper hit Sinister. The original was suspenseful and tastefully eerie, an indulgence to those who love creepy cinema. Sinister 2, however, doesn’t take its time like its predecessor and feels very thin and superficial.

The movie relies on darkness and fast camera angle switches for most of its scares. These are expected, but become stale very quickly when it’s the only tactic being used to “horrify” me. It’s sad, too, because the story has something there: A boy being haunted by children spirits (Robert Daniel Sloan), his brother (Dartanian Sloan) who’s jealous that he wasn’t chosen, an abusive father (Lea Coco), a nurturing but tired mother (Shannyn Sossamon), a spooky spirit that possesses children to murder, and a hero private investigator (James Ransone). But instead of putting all these elements to clever use to create the creepiness and tension, the writers opted for clichés and predictable developments.

The story is also plagued with plot holes towards the end, and it seemed to me that there were discrepancies between this movie and the original. After leaving the theater, I found myself questioning key scenes, trying to figure out how one scene turned into the next, and ultimately just gave the movie the benefit of the doubt – something I don’t like to do.

However, I did like watching James Ransone. He’s very charming on screen. It’s like watching a really nice, really cool dad. His character had the most versatility: he’s protective and vulnerable, he makes jokes and gets scared. He’s one of the only characters who had a range of emotions which may be why he shined a bit brighter than the other actors. The two brothers along with Sossamon do a decent enough job, too. The only problem is that the characters are so static and forgettable.

And that’s the biggest problem with the movie in general. It’s forgettable. I saw it two days ago and when I sat down to write this review, I could barely remember most of it. This is not to say there aren’t satisfying parts, because there are. There are also parts that will make you jump. But that’s about all there is, a couple satisfying lines and a scare or two.

Overall, Sinister 2 seems like a rushed cop-out, banking on you loving the original or being intrigued enough by its jumpy preview. There’s just not a lot of substance. I found myself waiting through the dialogue to get to the jump-scares which were unfulfilling anyway. Sinister 2 is mediocre at best.

Manny dangles from one arm on the monkey bars. He stretches for the next blue bar, but only his fingertips touch. He looks down. His feet wiggle in his new tennis shoes. They’re a size too big and are still being broken in, but Manny likes them because of the shiny logo.

“Come on, son.” Dad claps from the bench. Dad’s phone is lying on his puffed belly, stretching the Ohio State Football logo of his shirt. He’s taken a break from looking at it.

Manny doesn’t move. He’s frozen. There’s no momentum. Had he not been suspended in mid-air, Manny would’ve just been standing there raising his hand, waiting quietly to be called on. Manny’s hand starts to sting. He knows he can’t hold on much longer. Other kids run underneath the monkey bars and around him. He looks to Dad who only shrugs. Manny drops, his feet slamming onto the ground.

Dad rolls his eyes and turns to say, “Jesus. This boy, I tell ya.” He’s always talking to imaginary parents who share his disappointment. He faces Manny, “Good try, son. Now get back up there and do it again.” Manny brushes off the woodchips stuck to his palms and knees and climbs back up the platform.

Manny wipes his forehead. For the first time, he was happy that Dad made him get a buzz cut. This would change when he saw his reflection again, though. He wanted long hair like the guys who play country music on TV. “Happy to not have your Lennon hair now, I bet. Right, Manny?” Manny nods, but is confused. Lemons don’t have hair. At least none of the ones Manny had ever seen did. Dad says weird things sometimes.

“Alright,” Dad walks towards the bars, “let’s see it, buddy.”

Manny launches to the second bar. Swinging, he glides from one bar to the next. “Faster now. Come on, you’ve got to go faster.” Dad’s voice is rising like lava and he’s getting closer. Manny feels his whole body clench. He continues to move through the air. “Move!” Dad erupts. Manny gasps as his hand misses the next bar. His body twists and then stops swinging. He’s two bars further than last time, but now he was hanging just the same. Dad folds his arms. If there’s one thing Manny knew after living for seven years, it was this: He was definitely not a monkey. Manny drops again. Dad sighs and returns to the bench.

Manny follows and sits next to him. “I’m sorry.”

Dad puts his arm around Manny and laughs. “What am I going to do with you?”

They sit like this for a moment, watching all the boys and girls chase each other around the playground. Giggles and shrieks complement the now setting sun. Manny notices a crowd gathered near the rope climb. Soon they break into pairs of two. “Hey!” a lone girl waves her arms at her friends, “I don’t have a partner!” They talk again for a moment and then begin searching the playground with squinty eyes. One of them spots Manny. He shifts in his seat as the lone girl runs towards him.

“Hey, kid.” She stands in silence, waiting for his reply, but he only stares back at her. Her long black hair hangs in a ponytail and her pink shirt is stained with brown dust. Manny guesses she’s eight. Maybe even nine. “You want to race me?”

Dad pats him on the back. “Well, go on, Manny. Answer her.” Then Dad turns to the girl, “Sorry, sweetheart. He’s shy for some reason.”

“It’s okay. Some of us want to race around the playground and see who’s fastest.” She points to her friends. “I need someone to race with – the course is only big enough for two at a time.” She looks back at Manny. “You want to?”

“Well, that sounds fun. Doesn’t it, son? Tell her you want to, Man.”

“Yeah, okay.” Manny hops off the bench and follows her back to the starting line where her friends waited.

They welcome him into a circle and go around telling him their names. Manny learns Pink Shirt’s name is Jillian and quickly realizes that Alexa, the tallest and chubbiest, is the leader as she explains the course to everyone.

“Okay, guys. You got to go up this rope onto the climber and then slide down one of those slides over there.” The slide fit two people, a divider in the middle. “Then you got to go up the rock wall on the other climber, go down the stairs, do the monkey bars, and then run back to here. Okay?” Everyone nodded. “Dustin and me are gonna go first.”

Dustin crouches into a track runner’s position in front of the rope climb. “You’re going down!”

“Somebody say three, two, one, go.” Alexa got in position next to him.

After Jillian counts down, both racers take off in a frenzy. Dustin gains an early lead onto the first climber and down the slide. He puts even more distance between them during the footrace to the rock wall. He shoots up it and then has no problem through the monkey bars and coasts to the finish line.

“I left you in the dust!” He points at Alexa with both hands as she finishes.

“Okay, okay.” Alexa takes back control and points at Manny. “You and Jillian go next.”

Manny sizes up the course. Dad sneaks over and tries to hide himself beyond the first climber, not paying attention to Manny or the other kids for too long. He always does this when Manny plays with friends.

“You ready?” Jillian plants her feet. Her arms lock into position and her front knee bends.

Manny nods and stands next to her, legs spread. One foot is in front of the other, but his back is straight. He notices their shadows on the ground. As far as he could tell, it was the Flash versus small eighty year-old man trying to do the splits.

“Dustin, you do it.”

In his best announcer voice, Dustin counts down and then imitates a gunshot which sends Jillian wrestling up the rope. Manny follows behind. He reaches the slide as Jillian flies down it. Dad’s arms flail around. “Move, Manny! Do you want to get beaten by a girl?!”

Manny gets to the bottom of the slide and pushes his legs harder than he ever has. He reaches the rock wall with Jillian. She struggles to find her footing as she climbs, but Manny propels himself upwards, disregarding which blocks his feet land on. He keeps hearing Dad’s voice in his ears and head. A bunch of jumbled yelling.

Manny reaches the top of the second climber before Jillian. He hops down the stairs and looks up to the shiny blue bars above him. His legs tighten.

“Atta boy, Manny. Now,” Dad’s voice is intense and strict, deeper even, “remember what I said. You’ve got to move quickly or else you’re just going to get stuck like you always do.” He is standing just past the platform on the other side of the bars.

Manny jumps to the third bar this time. “Alright, buddy, there you go!” Dad claps rapid fire. Manny swings through the bars, hand after hand, in perfect rhythm. Left. Right. “Faster!” Left. Right. Right. “Manny! Jesus! Come on. You’re losing focus, boy.” Momentum dwindles. Manny’s swing turns into a shiver. He comes to a complete stop once again. “Again, really?” Dad sees Jillian coming down the stairs. “You better not let her beat you. So help me, God. You are not going to get beaten by a girl.”

Manny drops off the bar.

“Hey!” Alexa shouts, cupping her hands around her mouth. “If you fall off the monkey bars, you gotta go up that pole over there and down the spiral slide!”

“What?” That wasn’t part of the – I can’t believe this.” Dad is talking to imaginary parents again.

Manny bolts to the pole while Jillian starts the monkey bars. As he climbs, he hears cheers for Jillian. Everything gets silent when he rides down the slide. He knows she’s already won, but he wants to finish the race. Once at the bottom of the slide, he sprints to the finish line. He freezes once he realizes no one is there.

Then he sees them all crowding around Jillian who is writhing on the ground. Her knee is bleeding and she’s covered in woodchips.

Dad speeds towards Manny. He grabs his hand and pulls him away to the parking lot. As they step onto the pavement, Manny looks back and sees a woman screaming. “Are you serious!? Where are you going? Come back here!” She’s bent over Jillian and looks angrier than any adult Manny has ever seen. Dad doesn’t look back, he just keeps pulling Manny.

A few hours go by, Manny hears the phone ring at home and Mom answers it. It’s Ms. Montoya and Mom’s excited at first. But then she gets upset and her voice is shaky. “Okay, I’ll handle it now,” She says and hangs up. She calls to Dad who’s in the basement watching football.

They yell back and forth at each other for a long time. Manny tries to keep playing video games upstairs, but they’re getting too loud. Dad says, “I can’t have my son losing to a girl. He won’t lose to one and he sure as hell won’t act like one.” And Mom says, “What does it even matter? All that matters Is that we love him!” They continue on like this for a long time until Dad gets fed up. He grabs his coat and slams the door. Manny pauses the game and goes downstairs. Mom is crying and he hugs her.

Weeks later, Manny notices he’s seeing Dad less and less. Mom says that Dad got a new apartment because they didn’t have enough space, but Manny knows they have plenty of room. One day, while Manny’s over his apartment, he asks Dad why he doesn’t live with them anymore. Dad tells him, “Because your mother decided it was for the best.”

Ever since Dad said that, Manny sits in silence more often than he ever did. He wonders why girls ruin everything.

Like 90% of teenaged Tumblr users, I saw John Green’s newest book adaption movie, Paper Towns. And like 80% of that same community, I read the book – which I thought was alright – prior to watching it and hoped that doing so would amplify my enjoyment of the film. Unfortunately, the movie left me very disappointed.

Q (Nat Wolff) falls in love with a girl named Margo (Cara Delevingne) the moment she moves in across the street when the two are very young. He remembers a bike ride when the two came across a dead man in the park. Flash forward and Q is a bit of a loser and a little sad, both in the mental and pathetic senses of the word (which is how you can describe almost every protagonist of Green’s), while Margo is hot and popular. They now rarely communicate. But have no fear, she randomly shows up at his window one night and the two go on an adventure of revenge, a revenge-ture. Afterwards, she disappears. Q feels it’s his destiny to find her and brings along his two friends, Ben (Austin Abrams) and Radar (Justice Smith), to do so.

Elements of the plot and theme are skewed between the movie and book. In the book, Q’s search for Margo and his relationship with both her and the idea of her is under the spotlight. In the movie, the focus is shared between the three friends and each of their desires, dimming the spotlight on Q’s story. Gone are the scenes of him frantically searching different “Paper Towns” and coming up empty or scouring through the Wordsworth poem for a clue. I’m not saying that watching someone read or seeing someone drive alone to an empty place would’ve been exciting, but I am saying that these events in the book helped increase the tension and importance of the whole situation. While watching Radar and his girlfriend subtly struggle and then eventually have sex in the woods is cute, it takes away from the story. Rather than there being a main plot with two other subplots, each character got their own rushed storyline.

This rushed feeling isn’t helped by the fact that none of the actors gave a captivating performance, particularly Nat Wolff and Cara Delevingne.

My biggest grief was with the theme I took away from the movie. Margo runs away from home for no real reason except that she thinks everyone is “paper.” Basically, she’s saying what most teenagers complain about all the time: Everyone is fake except me. When she is finally found by Q, they exchange a couple words and she is the same, somewhat overdramatic person she has always been and then Q leaves her there. As the movie ends, he shares some fond words about her. This makes it seem as if Margo really is the living legend she longs to be, the legend that everyone thinks she is.

One of the best parts of the book was that when Q finds her, he realizes she’s just a normal, attention seeking person and that anyone can be a legend when they’re mysterious. That’s the whole point of even mentioning the dead guy in the beginning – he’s such a big part of both Margo’s and Q’s lives because they didn’t know anything about him; He becomes a legend to them, but not rightfully so. The dead man is a normal person, just like Margo, only he is dead and Margo is not. That was completely lost in the movie.

Overall, I would not recommend seeing Paper Towns. The theme is all wrong and some of the scenes are cringe-worthy due to awkwardness. Paper Towns didn’t have a good chance of being a stellar movie to begin with, a lot of the excitement in the book centers around Q’s inner monologue during events that are just a notch above mundane. It is not a good movie, not even for fans of the book.

Personally, I’m still waiting for a movie of Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green and David Levithan – my favorite book from either author.

Recently, I’ve been on a bit of a horror movie stint. My girlfriend and I take regular trips to the movies and when we saw previews for The Gift, we were excited. It promised a creepy plot drenched in grudge and anger and did not disappoint.

The Gift is a well-thought out movie that was given lots of care. Simon (Jason Bateman) and his wife, Robyn (Rebecca Hall), move from Chicago to a new, very modern home in California where Simon is originally from. Out shopping one day, they encounter an old high school “friend” of Simon’s, Gordon (Joel Edgerton). After doing the normal, awkward chitchat, Gordon begins stopping by the house unannounced and does so much too often. Eventually, Simon is confronted with the fact he bullied Gordon in their younger years. Long story short, all hell breaks loose and the film ends with a twist ending that would leave the devil hoping for the lesser of the two evils.

If it’s one thing that truly blew me away, it was the wonderfully constructed dialogue. Definitely not something I expect to impress me when I watch a scary movie. Jason Bateman absolutely kills it with his lines and Rebecca Hall gives a great performance as well. Their arguments heat and erupt with natural pace. It felt so real. My girlfriend and I left analyzing the exchanges like we would after watching a couple fight on Dr. Phil.

The Gift relies heavily on this sort of tension building rather than on cheap pop-out scares to keep the audience interested. In fact, there might only be one jump-scare in the whole movie. As someone who’s been watching more scary movies lately, I appreciated this; it made it feel fresher. With that being said, I would advise potential viewers to know that The Gift isn’t going to have you covering your eyes. Except at the end, just out of sheer disgust and disbelief.

The ending left my girlfriend and me staring at each other in the darkness of the credits with our mouths wide open. It’s a twist ending that I thoroughly enjoyed.

Overall, The Gift pits two different types of crazy against each other: the psychopathy of Gordon and the unprovoked savagery of Simon. Though the plot makes sense, it seems convenient at times, but I never thought this until after watching the movie. The film’s dialogue really shines and the tension builds seamlessly and quickly. The Gift is an intelligent and creepy movie that is well worth seeing.

Brendan was forearm-deep in a box of malted milk balls when he realized it was empty. Chaos in a suburban pantry. There must be another box. He rampaged through the shelves with crazy eyes. Nothing. Ludicrous! He threw the door open, dropped to his knees, and began a search and rescue mission.

“What are you doing?”

“Mom.” His eyes poked out from the door, “My milk balls. Where are my malted milk balls? I need them.”

“Calm down, jeez. You’re acting like a chocolate crazed five year-old for Christ’s sake.” He mocked a laugh and went back to looking. Sunlight beamed through the window above the sink and shined on Brendan. It was starting to set. Hot and worried, he asked if she moved his emergency box.

“Your emergency box?”

“Yeah. My substitute one – for when the main box is getting low.”

“Didn’t realize you were running a full scale operation here.” She walked to the kitchen table and sat down to read the newspaper.

Brendan asked again if she had seen the other box, but she hadn’t. He groaned. Talking was wasting time. He noted each box with a quick touch, knowing his chocolate gold would be revealed if he was thorough enough. On the fourth inspection, he still found nothing.

“Anyways,” his mother started again, “should I make you dinner? Or are you going out with friends?”

Brendan scoffed. Going out with friends had become a joke, a ridiculously improbable notion. His mother sighed and reminded him, as she did regularly, that phones worked both ways, and that he did, in fact, have friends.

“Not really.” He surveyed the pantry again, but it felt hopeless now. “And it doesn’t matter either way, I’d rather be by myself.”

“Well, alright. But it’s your last summer before you finish college. I’m just saying,” her eyebrows rose, “You’re going to regret not making the most of it.”

“I like relaxing, mom.”

“Being cooped up in the living room, playing piano, and shoving malted milk balls in your mouth like you’re preparing for hibernation doesn’t sound very relaxing to me.”

After checking for the sixth and final time, he slammed the door and assured her that he was not antsy.

“Uh huh,” she laughed quietly. “Regardless, I’m just saying that maybe you should call someone up. Like Pete, or even Jane.”

Pete was interning with a top publishing house in New York City and wasn’t returning until late August. That idea was out. “Too bad,” his mother answered, “You guys were inseparable.” She waited for him to speak. He threw open the fridge. “And what about Jane?” she asked.

“What about Jane?”

“You two were cute together. You should get in touch – you guys still talk, right?”

“Barely.”

“Is she still doing a music major like you?”

“I don’t know, mom. I don’t think so.” Brendan hadn’t seen her since days before they left for college the first time – to different schools. She figured they each needed freedom to follow their own path, but that “hopefully” their paths would cross again. And he was supposed to believe that. What a load of shit. He shut the fridge door. “I’m going to get candy from the convenience store.”

“Are you sure you should do that?”

He stopped mid-step towards the backdoor, feeling too heavy to move. Was he suddenly taking up more space? Or did the kitchen shrink? His whole body stung.

“I’m just saying,” she went on, “cutting out sweets could make a drastic difference. It’s up to you, though. You look great. Way better than a couple years ago.”

Brendan thanked her, but never believed compliments about his body. Not fully, at least. Not since he realized his body was too similar to a marshmallow. And although he took advantage of his school’s gym for the last three years, he still felt soft and unchanged. Desperately stagnant.

He needed a distraction. He looked around the cupboards. He was like a kid in a hardware store: hundreds of things to do, but nothing seemed appealing. “I guess I’ll go for a run, then.”

His mother nodded and he shoved his feet into tennis shoes. There was no need to change – basketball shorts and a ratty t-shirt were his all day, every day outfit. Not particularly flattering, but he was built for efficiency and already out the door. He started slow down the driveway until he reached his normal, quick pace on the main road. The falling sun hit him like a bullet each time it shot through the mass of trees on the other side of the street. His legs gently ached, reminders of his run earlier that day.

Before long, Brendan was passing a small shopping plaza. The convenience store stared at him. He shook his head. His mother was right. No malted milk balls. Not today.

But on his way back around, he had second thoughts. His mouth was watering. Sweat covered his face. Brendan’s whole head, inside and out, was a boiling pot of liquid. It splashed with chocolaty compensations: Maybe one more box wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Just a small one. Or a bigger one. The biggest one. As a ceremonial last box. Maybe. He kept jogging.

He didn’t need the malted milk balls, but he sure as hell wanted them.

“How was your run?” His mother greeted him at the door, still sitting at the table.

He told her it was fine and opened the pantry again. His eyes darted to the blank space where a large, full box should’ve been sitting. After mourning briefly, he shut the door and sped to the living room.

Brendan sat at the piano and paged through a skyscraper of music. The messy stack stuck out in the spotless room. He tried to find something to play, but the notes looked like malted milk balls. Was he losing it? Could a “runner’s high” really be this intense?

He settled on a Chopin piece – one of his favorites – to calm his candied mind. It had been three years since he played it, but the music was still familiar to him. Soon he was playing the beginning at the right tempo and loving it. He looked down at his fingers while they rode the keys. His teachers always told him they were perfect for the piano. Long and slender. Not medium and husky like the rest of him. His fingers were the one part of his body he loved.

A clump of wrong notes forced him to look up at the music again. He worked on the problem section. Slowly. Deliberately. After a while he played it correctly and nodded, smiling, while he reached down for some… “Dammit.” The piano and candy were intertwined.

He collapsed onto the couch, just beyond the piano. His tongue longed for chocolate. He pulled out his phone and began playing games on it. Ding. A new message from Jane stopped him immediately:

“Hey, Brendan! I just got back from summer term and would love to see you. I have to run an errand, then I’m free for the rest of the night. Let me know. See you (hopefully).”

Throwing his phone against a pillow, he stood up and headed towards the door. He had suffered long enough. The sun was now below the trees and gave off an orange glow as he walked towards the shopping plaza. His tongue tickled, saliva gathering. Malted milk balls time. He walked faster.

Brendan arrived at the store in a short time. He followed a regimented path to the candy aisle, bought his malted milk balls, and scurried off with them in a bag.

As he walked outside, his free hand ripped open the box. The glorious chocolate scent exploded out of it. He was already searching for a handful.

“Brendan!” a voice called out, “Brendan, is that you?”

His heart stopped. “Jane.” He explored her legs, exposed by high-waisted shorts. Long and slender, just as they had always been. And, in that second, he swore that he would always see them that way, regardless of their actual shape. He hid the bag behind his leg. “Hi.”

She practically skipped towards him and leaned in for a hug, smiling the whole time. Brendan gave her a quick squeeze and pulled away while she still clung for a moment. “Did you get my text?”

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

“No big deal.” Her whole face bubbled with delight. “Jeez, how long has it- -“

“Three years.”

“Oh my. Was that summer the last time we…”

“Talked? Yeah.”

“I was going to say ‘saw each other.’ But, yeah. I guess you’re right. Texting isn’t really talking – it’s no substitute for the real thing!” She chuckled, embarrassed, but still happy. Brendan searched the parking lot, looking past her. “How’s the piano going? You been playing over the summer?” she asked.

“It’s going. I actually played some Chopin today, if you care.”

“Glad to hear you’re still playing. I barely have time for the violin anymore. But, Chopin? Did you play a solo of his for me at one point? A couple years ago? Gosh, I still remember that. That one was my favorite. How long did you work on that one? A month or two? I loved hearing you play those crazy solos. Hell, I even liked hearing you practice. You’re great.”

“Yeah, right.” Brendan laughed and agreed those were good memories.

She smiled even wider while she raised onto her tip-toes, peering into the bag. “What’cha got there?”

“Nothing.” He shielded the bag from her. “Just some sustenance…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing… I’ve – I’ve got to get going.”

“Brendan, wait. I hope I’m not keeping you from something important, but we should really get together soon. Get lunch or something. Catch up, you know?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe.” He looked down. The pavement was getting darker as the sky did. His eyes snapped back to her. “I mean, what do I have to say to you?”

“Exactly,” she answered. Confusion shot through his body and spread across his face. “What do you have to say to me, Brendan?”

“A lot. I have a lot to say to you.” Shaking his head, “You know what, forget it. I don’t want to see you. I’m happier without you.”

Instead of leaving, she persisted that they see each other and brought up lunch a second time. Brendan avoided her stare while she rambled.

“You broke up with me, Jane.”

“I know. But we were together for, what, two and a half years? That’s important – that’s huge!”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying that we’re both huge parts of each other’s lives; we loved each other, didn’t we? We shouldn’t just let that die out. I don’t want that to happen. It would be like,” she took a step closer and opened the bag he held, “It would be like having a big malted milk ball and then just putting it in the sun to watch it melt away, not doing anything to stop it.”

Jane let go of the bag before Brendan retightened his grip. The box hit the ground. Malted milk balls scattered everywhere. The sun had set and Brendan watched the candy roll into the darkness, disappearing.

They looked at each other, neither saying a word. The street lamps lit her face. Her green eyes glowed in the darkness. He hadn’t gotten over her – he had turned his back, but never walked away. He was finally turning back around. She was full of life. Able to build him back up. Was it worth it? To give her that much power?

“Jane.” She smiled slightly when he said her name. Maybe he didn’t have to give up anything. He just had to let go. “On second thought, lunch sounds great.”

“Actually,” she grabbed his hand, “are you free for dinner right now?”

He grinned and she led him to her car. Already he was spilling out stories from the last three years. He felt weightless.

Hello, my name is Doug and I love to write. I’m an English major – go figure – at Skidmore College. I wanted to start this blog/page in order to have a place to share my fiction as well as reviews of movies and books and anything else I like.

Please feel free to browse around and comment and get into contact with me. I love feedback and I’d be happy to talk to anyone about writing. Of course, I’ve only been writing seriously for about the last year and a half, but I’m hoping to continue improving.